


Watching Her Read

by cilceon



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24644314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cilceon/pseuds/cilceon
Summary: “You’ll break your back carrying worthless scrap around like that.” Deacon mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.“It's a book Deacon, it's not scrap and it's not worthless either. For how often you quote Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe I thought you would care about this sort of thing.”“Proust, don't forget Proust.” He said from the other side of the room. “I talk about him a lot too.”Wanderer continue to put the book in her bag. “I've been meaning to ask you about that actually. How'd you get so well acquainted with all these authors? Books aren't that common in… you know the post-apocalyptic wasteland.”“Why I never told you?” He put his hand on his chest in mock surprise. “I was the caretaker of the largest library in North Dakota for one hundred years and I had the wonderful honor of reading every single book in that collection at least thirty-four times.”
Kudos: 31





	Watching Her Read

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ ME  
> Hi there! this is still up for archival reasons! the better version (that's twice as long & much better) [Iis here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27464329) please read that one over this!

“You’ll break your back carrying worthless scrap around like that.” Deacon mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

“It's a book Deacon, it's not scrap and it's not worthless either. For how often you quote Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe I thought you would care about this sort of thing.”

“Proust, don't forget Proust.” He said from the other side of the room. “I talk about him a lot too.”

Wanderer continue to put the book in her bag. “I've been meaning to ask you about that actually. How'd you get so well acquainted with all these authors? Books aren't that common in… you know the post-apocalyptic wasteland.”

“Why, I never told you?” He put his hand on his chest in mock surprise. “I was the caretaker of the largest library in North Dakota for one hundred years and I had the wonderful honor of reading every single book in that collection at least thirty-four times.”

“Dee,” She glared at him, malice missing from her expression. “Do you even know where North Dakota is?” 

“Sure I do boss. It’s right next to East Dakota.”

“You're impossible.” A clap of staticky thunder sounded in the distance, sending a wave of sickly green light out around them. Wanderer slumped her shoulders. “Oh, that's just great. I don't think this is the place to hunker down in during a rad storm given that there is a giant hole in the roof.”

Deacon shook his head and made a tsking sound. “It is a nice view though.”

“I would prefer a view that didn't make my hair fall out.” Wanderer adjusted the strap on her bag as she peered out the window of the broken-down shop they had found themselves in. “Give me a moment... let's see…okay. If we turn down this street,” she pointed to her right. “and then take a left we should get to an old corner store that hasn't fallen down yet.” 

“See that's the reason I keep you around. You got a little map in your head. You don't even need that pip-boy.” He patted her shoulder as they walked out of what was left of the building. “Were you always as good with remembering where things are?” His voice had a quizzical tone now. The one he had when he was genuinely curious about some information she could offer him. as the months went past, she found herself offering more infromation with eacvh question.

She hummed and thought for a moment. “I mean, I don't remember all of Boston, but I did live here for most of my life. Some things are a little fuzzy and the farther we get from city center the less I remember, but yeah, I guess I've always been this way.”

“No kiddin’?” He was behind her now, as he usually was when they were walking anywhere. “Tell me then, my little wanderer, what's your favorite place nearby.”

His little wanderer? 

Well that was new. Not bad, but certainly new. Wanderer had paused longer than she would have liked and hoped Deacon assumed it was because she was thinking of an answer to his question and not because she was thinking about what he had called her. “It has to be the library but Daisy mentioned it was overrun with the super mutants so thats outa the question. The fountain in the center is one of my favorite things in the world. I bet it's not as pretty as it used to be though…” 

“Come on pal, you mean to tell me you don't think bags of guts and blood everywhere count as a pretty thing?” He stepped over the remains of a light post. “I like to think of it as ‘sociopath chic’.”

“It's sad and depressing, Dee.” They had reached the corner store, Sure enough it was still standing. The storm was in full swing now. “Looks like we reached it at the perfect time.”

Deacon put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from turning the handle. Right, she thought, we can't just walk in there. Wanderer nodded at him, letting him know that she understood what he was saying. “I'll get it one of these days.”

“I know you will boss.” He was looking through the least grimy windowpane now trying to see inside. He held his rifle, Church Bell comfortably at his side. “I don't see any lights. No movement either.”

She turned the handle now, Deliverer drawn. “Ladies first” she whispered as she snuck inside, Deacon followed suit. They were met with an empty, dusty room, shelves long picked of their contents.

“Yeesh, what a mess.” They continued forwards. She to the storage room, him to the office. Once both we're satisfied with the rooms being cleared, they met back up. Deacon locked the front door to prevent any lose raider from picking this as their shelter from the storm as well. "and for me to say that, you know it means something."

“It could be worse.” She shrugged. “Did you find anything interesting in the office? The entire backroom is trashed.”

He nodded walking towards the door. “There’s a couch and some old candles, the desk has a working terminal you can mess with. I think it be a decent place to hunker for the night.”

“Peachy.” Wanderer walked in after him. “You took first watch yesterday so now it's my turn.”

She didn't really remember who was on guard duty last, but it didn't matter. The terminal he had mentioned piqued her interest to much to put sleep first. The elective computer programming courses she took in school were finally paying off and she tried to take full advantage of that whenever possible. Her dad would be so proud.

They walking into the room and Wanderer sat down at the desk before Deacon could protest, leaving him with the couch. He locked the door to the office. “How many hours we getting?”

She began booting up the computer and responded, “Why don't we each get three? The storm doesn't seem like it's going to be going anywhere soon and HQ isn't expecting us back till tomorrow.” She wanted to add that she could also tell he was exhausted but thought against it. “Besides, I don't know how annoying this big boy is going to be yet.” She tapped the top of the monitor, wedding ring clinking against it defiantly.

Deacon smiled softly from his place on the couch. “I don't know how you have patience for those things.”

“Well, you know me. I've got the patience of a saint.” They had settled into a silence as he laid down. 

Time passed and Wanderer wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep, but the terminal had proven easier than she had thought to open. There wasn't anything interesting beyond some delivery logs, either.  
All in all, it took maybe forty minutes to open it and read all the documents inside.

Wanderer sighed, quietly drumming on the side of the desk before she remembered the book she had grabbed earlier. When she found it, she hadn't bothered to read the title. All she knew is that it was a book with most of its pages intact. A rare sight in the wasteland. She pulled it out of her bag slowly so not to wake Deacon.

Now, Wanderer looked at first page to see what she'd be spending the next almost two hours reading. She rolled her eyes; it was a raunchy romance novel titled: Lasso of Lust and had to stop herself from groaning. There better be a decent plot burried in this.

Now Deacon would never tell her this, but he loved watching Wanderer read.

His partner had gone through the terminal pretty fast, no surprise there. Now she had a book in her hand, the one he saw her take earlier that day. Her feet on the ledge of the desk, the chair tilted back so her head was a pressed against the wall.  
Deacon had said the book was worthless, but it couldn't have been farther from the truth. The man loved books. His childhood was full of them and it was one of the only things he tried to remember from it. 

She rolled her eyes at the cover; he was excited to see if she would enjoy it. Wander had a way of well…wandering when she was reading. The look was kind of there when she was in a terminal, but they were always overshadowed with determination, frustration, and the thrill of finally achieving what she wanted when she broke in.

When she read terminal entries, she was connecting with someone she could have known. Deacon could tell those stories made her sad, they were real people. Her people. They were more real to her then they could be to anyone else.  
But it was when she was reading something that was set somewhere far away, somewhere different, that he really enjoyed watching her. The way she threw herself into the stories like she was really there. It was nice to watch her escape for a moment. To watch her return to the world she had before.

He couldn't tell what the story was but judging from her face, it was something that she didn't necessarily want to be reading but had accepted she'd be reading anyways. He stayed there on the couch pretending to be asleep, watching her.  
It had only been ten minutes before he could see a steady growth of red on Wanderer’s cheeks. He would’ve raised eyebrow if he thought she couldn’t easily see it. She shook her head slowly and then stared at the ceiling before snapping her eyes back to the book. It took every ounce of him not to smile. She was reading a romance novel and she was loving it. 

It was so obvious to Deacon that she was enjoying it and hating that she was enjoying whatever she was reading. He made a note to grab the book from her when she was done with it. 

Wander looked so comfortable in that moment, like she didn't have a care in the world besides how poorly written the words before her were. She hiked her shoulders up, her face turning somehow redder than before.

She didn't really know how to handle steamy moments did she? He thought back to times when they were in Goodneighbor, where couples were getting a little too handsy in alleyways and she'd look away quickly her cheeks dusting with rose. Or how quick she was to defend herself when a caravan guard in Bunker Hill said something to her that really shouldn't be said to a woman. 

Goosebumps threatened his arms at the thought of Hancock ever getting her alone.

Deacon could have sworn she just let a squeaking sound as she continued to the book, it was almost adorable watching her guard be so nonexistent. It was moments like this where he remembered how much younger than him she was. How little she was for a woman who could kill anything in a hundred-foot radius of her…

Thank god for his sunglasses because his eyes snapped wide open. 

He wanted to slap himself in the face. Deacon had called her his little wanderer and he hadn't even noticed. He had no right to take claim to her not after everything she had been through. Not after everything he had done.  
How had Deacon let something like that slip? 

There was a cracking sound, Wanderer’s eyes shot forwards before squinting in quite resignation. There was a louder crack now. The chair she was leaning in crumbled underneath her weight with a loud smack.  
The man was by her side before he knew he was moving.

“Are you alight?” Deacon had a hand under her arm, helping her stand.

‘Ah crap ‘m sorry I woke you up.” Wanderer began dusting herself off.

“Don’t worry about it boss.” He took a step back. “How’s your tooshie.”

She smiled, “I think it’ll make it.”

He picked the book off the ground and glanced at the cover. He let out a whistle. “Woooow. Woulda never pined you for someone who read this kind of thing.”

Wanderer mad a dash for the novel as he lifted it about his head, out of her reach. Deacon began waving it around and from hand to hand to keep it away from her.  
She was jumping now, “You. Are…the absolute…worst!”

Deacon responded with a laugh as Wanderer backed up with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Aw are you giving up already?” He made no move to lower the book.

“No. I’m thinking.” She shot her hand out, jabbing her fingers into his rib cage, causing Deacon to drop his arms enough to snatch the book. “Ha!”

“Oh, okay so that was a cheap shot.” He groaned dramatically as Wanderer plopped down into the corner of the couch, the book clutched between her arms and chest.

She shrugged sinking into the cushions. Deacon sat on the other side copying her position. The pair fell into a comfortable silence, one that required no expectations. He hadn’t had this with anyone in a long while. It was nice.  
“Dee? What’s your favorite book?” Her voice was small from beside him.

Such an ordinary question for most people. But with him…with her, she knew there was a 30/70 chance that he’d give her a real answer to that type of question. As the months were passing, however, Deacon found himself shifting more and more towards 50/50. Maybe even more than that.

His friend always gave him an out if he didn’t want to answer. Never asking more than one question, never anything invasive. Always simple things, a favorite color, song, or place the two of them had ended up. Things he could easily lie about.  
Deacon hummed softly, thinking. “Fahrenheit 4-something.”

“451?” 

“Yeah, my favorite book is Fahrenheit 451.”

She smiled at him. “That’s a good choice.”


End file.
